Resident Evil: The Price of Normalcy v2
by Desertcross4
Summary: Total rewrite of PON. Isaac Brown fights for a sense of boredom, of routine, of normal. Thrust into the world of conspiracies and horror will the fight become too difficult to win?
1. Holding Onto Normal

Welcome to the total re-write of Resident Evil: The Price of Normalcy. I've decided that I wasn't going to just replace the older version but put both of them up to let the readers decide upon which was better. It would take up too much time anyway.

I'd like to apologize to the authors whose characters I borrowed to use in the earliest reincarnation of The Price of Normalcy. I liked how I had used them and made the first version but it still wasn't quite up to my standards looking back, and I doubt that it was up to yours as well. So about five months ago I had begun the re-write of Isaac's trials and tribulations in Raccoon City. Totally revamped it. I had tried re-writing the as a separate and totally independent story apart from the events of Noctorro's and HHOD's stories but I found that it didn't have the same impact.

So I would once again ask Noctorro and HHOD for permission to use their characters in Resident Evil, The Price of Normalcy.

Diclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil. If I did, a few choice annoying characters would be dead and gone.

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**July 14th, 1998**

I closed the door to my apartment after I stumbled in, exhausted and hung over from all the partying I had done the two nights before. I was BEAT! I wobbled into my bedroom and collapsed onto the twin sized mattress, buryng my face languidly into my pillow. I yelped in discomfort as I realized that I hadn't washed the styling product out of my hair, which was coiffed into what some of my friends called 'sex hair.'

I let out a sigh and glanced at the clock as I sat up. It was six in the morning. I walked out of my bedroom and into my bathroom, ignoring the constant shouting coming from the upstairs tenants. I knew their pattern. It was 'yell, yell, yell,' then a whole lot of moaning and bedsprings creaking. The first few months living here were really funny because of how ridiculous those two were. Then the hilarity of it ebbed away into completely infuriating at how they'd carry on, sometimes well into the night when I had to work early in the morning.

My bathroom was my pride and joy, since I decorated it nicely with light tones, and had a beautiful shower stall that was in excellent condition. I kept this part of my apartment the cleanest. I grabbed an ivory towel and hung it on the holder near the shower stall door. I shrugged off my clothes and jumped into the shower, turning both the cold and hot water knobs and sighing at the feeling of the warm water running over my body.

I closed my eyes and began to ponder as I squeezed some shampoo into my hand. I, Isaac Seth Brown was a waitor at Raccoon City's own 'Pianti's' franchise as well as the "head Custodian of Records" for Feldman's Life Insurance. I wasn't making as much money as I'd wanted to be making, but a cool four thousand dollars a month was good enough to live comfortably in this city. Despite that, I literally had no free time for myself at all.

Rubbing the shampoo into my wild, uniquely dark red hair I began to think about where I was living. Raccoon City, the small little mesa bordered by high mountains all around. To some of the tourists that came to the city, it was a really big town, to others it was a very small city. No one really knew what to call it when it was in development, so it seemed like some cockamimie idiot strolled by the city founders and named the city after an animal known for its ferocity and rodent-like behaviour. Not too classy, that's for sure.

Not that I hated the city...no, I just feel like this quaint little mountain city was just waiting for something big to happen that would really put it on the map, so to speak. I felt trapped in the city, not just because of the mountains that locked people inside, or the stifling heat in the summer or the muggy, mild winters. It was all relative. I felt trapped because my father, the man who helped create me was here, living in the city just a few miles from where I lived. I felt trapped because despite my many attempts to escape from him, he was always able to find me and bring me back here.

I had the worst fear of my father...something he instilled in me all those years. His "parenting skills," for lack of a better word, had left my mother timid and submissive, almost to the point of being numb. His beatings left me nearly unreceptive to feelings of intimidation. His hypocrisy caused me to hate my roots. I had been part of a rich, accepting subculture of humans. I had lived in the prestigious uptown district of Raccoon City, surrounded by wealth and comfort. Until my fifteenth birthday I hadn't realized how dark that place really was, how intricate the web of lies the people in that area spun. That was why my father seemed to target me. His own son, his flesh and blood.

The image of my father, fornicating with one of the older sisters of one of my "best" friends at the time was forever etched into my mind. I was disgusted, filled with hatred for my father and his little mistress and sadness for my unknowing mother, and eventually I drew back from that comfortable lifestyle. I spent little time at home, spending extra hours at school, spending more time training in Tae-Kwon-Do and Jiu-Jitsu at the gym and working extra long shifts on the weekends. I dressed differently, hung out with different people, and shrugged off the friends I thought were absolute poison.

When confronted about it by my father, I revealed his little trysts with the barely legal hag from two blocks down right in front of my mother. She was not livid, she was not angry, or irritated, or anything. She remained placid as my father began to yell at me, screaming about how what he did was none of my business. It was only five minutes into our screaming match when my father threw the first punch. I had been so stunned after the first hit that I wasn't ready for the rest of them. When he was done and tired, I was bruised and sprained.

It was forty-five minutes of limping through hellish pain and freezing cold weather before I got to the bus stop and bought a bus ticket to Winnipeg. Nobody asked me any questions about my appearance, with my Sex Pistols tee and black denim pants, dried blood at the corner of my split lip and my left eye slightly swollen. I got on the bus, sitting in the back curled into a ball with a small blanket that was packed into the overhead compartment. I slept most of the way to Canada, showing my birth certificate when asked and staying silent.

When I reached the frigid city of Winnipeg, I had nowhere to go. I literally spent six hours sitting in the same seat in the bus terminal, trying to figure out what I was going to do next. I was homeless, had barely any accessible money, and had no connections whatsoever. I was reduced to a sobbing ball of teenage angst until someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I had never met anyone with such hospitality. Kristopher Matheson. He had known me for only a few moments and offered me a place to stay. He shrugged off his thick blue parka, handed it to me and carried what little provisions I had brought with me all the way through the freezing cold of Downtown Winnipeg in winter to the transit bus stop. I followed him out of courtesy and curiosity, not expecting the rest of his family to welcome me so readily as he did.

I had been proven wrong. There was a small discussion among his family, and upon his return to where I was standing, waiting for them to turn me away, Kris removed the coat from my shoulders and led me upstairs to the second floor of his house. We sat and talked as he cleaned the cuts and scrapes on my face, bandaging them as well as giving me an ice pack for my eye. After cleaning up, he inflated a twin sized air bed and set it up as another place to sleep. I was shocked and confused, and even at my refusal he smiled and told me to lie down. I did as he said, quickly falling asleep the instant my head hit the pillow.

The four months I spent living in the Matheson household were the best times of my life. Kris' parents had adopted three boys and had three children of their own, Kris included. They were so open about everything, and laid no judgement when I told them why I had run away. They were so loving, and I made it my mission to not be a burden. They enrolled me in Kris' high school, and I insisted on doing chores to earn my keep. It was a complete culture shock to me, how readily everyone accepted everyone.

The love I was showered with by the Matheson family made me so happy, but inside it was so painful. More than once I cried to sleep, wishing my family was like theirs. They had only enough money to get by, but they made no complaints, and were the happiest people I had ever met. They were happy, and that made me happy but it ended all too soon. My father found me, sending the police to retrieve me on the grounds of credit card thievery. I refused, telling them my side of the story, as did Kris' family. Their reasoning behind their refusal touched me so deeply that I left. They thought of me as one of their own. I was part of their family, they had said. They loved me like one of their own.

I went without a fight, the police putting me in handcuffs and shoving me into the squad car. I gave the family one last smile from the squad car before driving off. Once I was back in Raccoon, I immediately tried to file restraining orders against my father but were denied the first year. I was dragged back home where I was immediately beaten and locked in my bedroom for three days. The days went by, year after year, beating after beating.

Of course, I had escaped once again right after a lost fight, heading straight for the R.P.D. with my fractured collarbone, cut lip and black eyes. I was finally awarded a restraining order. My mother was forced to emancipate me, and I used my savings, which had reached a cool eight thousand dollars to rent and furnish my East downtown apartment. When my real story began, I had walked away from the most difficult time in my life...

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Chapter One felt like a liberation to me. After writing it I felt like this made more sense, more clear than the old version, and I liked how Isaac's history was neatly rolled into one chapter. No more vague instances, no more confusion contradictions.

Tell me how you like it.


	2. Once in a Lifetime

I apologize for the long wait. I just had some apprehensions about my writing that put me in a bit of a funk when I was writing this. I am beginning to like how in-depth this version is with Isaac's life. And to respond to SwordofLightBladeofDarkness, I do intend on having Isaac and Rebecca meet. But, unlike the first version, they will not go into a serious (sexual) relationship, just more of a chaste little affair, if you could call it that. I just felt that it took away from the overall plot. He will be attracted to her, but not for long. He will know the consequences of his actions, and what I have in store for him is going to affect his interactions with the STARS.

**

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**July 15th, 1998. Thirteen Minutes to Sunset.**

The summer had begun, and Raccoon's climate suddenly plunged into something reminiscent of Winnipeg. The heat was unbearable some days, but there would suddenly be a huge downpour that would cool us down some. I myself was perfectly comfortable in my apartment with the blinds drawn, my television locked on MTV. I wasn't working today or tomorrow so I was waiting for the sun to go down so that my friends could head over to my place for a movie night. At the moment I was lying on the carpeted floor of my living room, twenty pound weights strapped to my wrists as I brought my arms up and together over my chest.

I wasn't too fond of going to the gym anymore to do my exercises, so I bought myself a forty pound punching bag and some strap-on free weights so I could exercise at home. The punching bag was hanging in the corner of my bedroom, as were the rest of my free weights. I was so focused on my workout and the television that the telephone ringing only registered as a dull buzzing for the first few seconds. When I finally noticed it, I got up and picked it up. I pressed the receiver to my ear and spoke.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Olivia Gonzales of the Raccoon City Police Department. We're looking for an Isaac Seth Brown, is he home?" My face paled. What had I done now? My mind went through hundreds and hundreds of excuses to give them but finally settled on greeting them.

"Speaking..." I replied politely.

The woman's voice seemed to perk up almost immediately. "Oh! Hello, this is Olivia Gonzales of the R.P.D. We were hoping to talk to you about your expressed interest in a job position in the Precinct." She said, her tone jovial and accommodating.

"What? I didn't express an interest in a job position..." I said in confusion.

"Well, your resume _was_ faxed to our Human Resources office two weeks ago from Feldman's Insurance Agency." I blinked in confusion. "We have an interview set up for Thursday, July sixteenth at five thirty PM, do you think you can make it?" She said with the utmost nonchalance. I stammered, not knowing what to do.

"Uh-I-uh...y-yeah I can make it. Tomorrow, five-thirty. Got it." I agreed, scribbling down the date and time.

"Alright, we'll see you then. Goodbye." She said cheerfully.

"Thank you very much, goodbye." I replied. I hung up the phone, feeling shocked, confused, angry and happy all at the same time. I walked over to my calendar in my room and marked down the interview.

---

July 15th, 8:15 PM

"But _why_ would you fax my resume over to the Precinct without my permission, sir?" I asked, following Archibald Feldman through the office as he was briskly making his rounds in the bullpens. The man was in his late forties, and being the successor to the Feldman Life Insurance company made him very business savvy and very well calculated in his dealings with people. He turned his head to me as we walked side by side and smiled.

"I did it because it was a very good job opportunity." We quickly walked into his spacious office, the older man taking a seat behind his desk while I stood respectfully on the other side. Feldman folded his thick, calloused hands on his desk and smiled his big, wide, bright smile. "Chief Irons is a good friend of mine and let it slip that STARS needed a new departmental secretary, someone who could quickly document files, organize meetings, and also carry out requests from the department." He explained. I shrugged, as if urging him to go on with his explanation. "All of which are things you've done in my company with the utmost ease. Right now, you're the most qualified for the job." He replied.

"But I just got out of high school..." I said quietly.

"That didn't stop me from hiring you, or promoting you for your hard work. Look, I'm not trying to get rid of you or anything, but you've worked for me for four years. It's time you moved on to better things. This _job_ is a better thing." Mr. Feldman fiddled with his tie then leaned back on the leather chair.

"I...I don't think I get what you mean, Mr. Feldman. A-are you getting rid of me?" I asked.

"There's nothing to worry about, Isaac. Your job will be here waiting for you whether or not you get the position." He said with a smile.

"Then, what are you saying?" I asked, stuffing my hands in my pants pockets. I did that when I was confused and uncertain. Feldman chuckled, his wide chest rising and falling sharply in a rhythmic staccato.

"I'm saying, I want you to get this job. It's good money, and you'll have free time for yourself. You're going to wear yourself out, having these two jobs. You're never home, you come here for nine hours everyday at night or during the day, then you wait tables for another six hours on the weekends." Feldman said, running a large hand through his salt and pepper hair. "This job will give you more money, more free time, and more opportunities. Do it, Isaac...it's a once in a lifetime opportunity." Feldman said, smiling.

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Read and review and tell me your thoughts. 


	3. Something I Need

When I started University, which was a year ago I really wanted nothing to do with writing. Like my Dad always says: "Force it out, and all you get is shit." and that was not conducive to bringing out the best work in me, so I placed being a novelist on the backburner and made it into just a hobby. But since I've actually gotten more than ten chapters on reserve for this story I feel like I've got the time to really think things out instead of trying to piece everything together quickly in a way that pleases the readers. I care about the readers and what they think, but I like the fact that I find personal satisfaction from doing this even more.

So for those who have stuck by me in the three? years I've been an author on thank you. I know I don't always show it by reviewing your pieces, but I read avidly. I assure you. I'll try harder to show you that I am committed to improving the portrayal of the life of a character that has become something like my child...a scarred, chain smoking, potty-mouthed, and broken child, but my child, nonetheless.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil. I wish I did, but then Every game would have Claire and Jill in it working as a team. Because they are badass.

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July 16th, 1998. Afternoon.

I adjusted my tie and collar as I walked up the steps to the police station. In my right hand was my portfolio and letters of recommendation from all my old employers. I fiddled with my hair, styled neatly and out of my face. I was sweating bullets from the humidity, but I only lived about nine blocks from the precinct. I looked kind of awkward, in a nice suit and tie, a pair of nice black leather flats and with my hair combed and parted from the side.

I pushed the mahogany doors open, entering the old art gallery turned law enforcement building. The place was bustling with cops, squad cars lined up in the parking lot just outside the doors. There was a bit of an uncomfortable moment when one of the policemen who were working my runaway case passed by me and gave me an appraising, questioning look. I avoided eye contact with him and sped up my pace, toting my portfolio with me. I walked up to the receptionist, a taller blonde woman in a neatly pressed and crisp uniform. I stood in front of the desk with my arms relaxed at my sides and smiled awkwardly.

"Hi...I'm Isaac Brown...I have an interview with Chief Irons." I said nervously. The woman laughed and smiled back. She held out her hand and spoke. I took her hand and shook it firmly.

"I'm Rita. Nice to meet you. Just hold on for one second I'll buzz you in to the Chief." She said, her tone giving me a little reassurance. I nodded and relaxed my stance just a little. She shifted some wayward papers on her desk before pressing the call button and leaning in on the microphone. "Hey, Chief..."

A buzzing, gruff voice boomed through the speaker. "What is it?" His voice sounded kind of muffled, like he was eating something. The rumbling in my stomach warned me that I was getting really hungry after not eating for the last nine hours. I began to look around the main hall, watching as police officers whizzed by, in various types of uniforms.

"Your five-thirty interview is here." She singsonged, making a small glance at me. I smiled and resumed looking around. I noticed that a few people who were running around the precinct were in regular suits and ties, and not in uniform. They must have been either civil servants or detectives.

"...Send him up..." The speaker buzzed from the Chief's baritone voice.

"Shall I call Captain Wesker as well?" Rita asked.

"No, no, I'll call him myself. Just send him up." The chief quickly answered.

"Yes, sir." Rita answered, releasing the call button. "They're ready for you. Just head up the main stairs and turn right. After that, just follow the corridor to the end. Okay?" I nodded.

"Okay, thank you very much." I replied, turning towards the stairs.

"Good luck." Rita called. I nodded and waved with my free hand as I walked up the stairs. Just as I was making my way up the stairs, I noticed some of the officers handing off a few files to a small Asian boy who was running around quite tirelessly even as the stack of folders in his arms got bigger and bigger. I laughed to myself and kept on climbing the stairs. I entered the second floor east hall corridor and followed it, looking left and right and taking small, fleeting glances at the offices that I was passing by. I turned left and saw the end of the hall. A lone door stood at the end of the corridor, stuffed lions frozen in an earth shattering roar standing on either side of it.

"Kitschy..." I commented. I knocked on the large wooden door and stood respectfully with my hand behind my back. Soon enough, the door opened and a large, heavyset man with a Super Mario moustache stared down his nose at me. The man smiled, his admittedly straight teeth tinged with yellow stains.

"Hello, son. How are you?" He asked.

"Very good, sir. And you?" I replied quickly. He laughed heartily and smacked me on the back, knocking the wind from me.

"Very good. Let's get this interview underway, shall we?" He asked. I nodded, following the big man through the door to sit down in front of his desk while he sat in his burgundy leather chair behind it. As soon as we sat down there was a knock on the door and the knob turned. Suddenly a tall, platinum blonde man with black shades stepped into the room, silently closing the door and coming round the desk to face me beside Chief Irons. "Ah. Albert. Now, we can begin. Mr. Brown, this is Captain Albert Wesker. Albert, this is Isaac Brown." I extended my hand to shake his, but he didn't take it. Just stood there, arms crossed.

I withdrew my hand, my smile faltering. I folded my hands upon my lap and sat respectfully after handing the two of them a copy of my resume. Soon enough, Captain Wesker began with his questions.

"You're quite young. Are you sure you have the necessary experience for this kind of job?" He said calmly. I took a deep breath to calm myself down.

"Yes, sir. I've got a typing speed of 124 words per minute, and I know universal and medical shorthand, and I've also been head Custodian of Records for Feldman's Life Insurance for fourteen months now." I replied. Captain Wesker nodded.

"Really? Could you tell me more about your duties there?" He asked.

"Yes, sir. As the head record keeper, I would have to stay up to date with all of the company's documents, procedures, resources and employees. I am required to take detailed reports of each insurance claim, notify the quality control officers of the company, as well as organize meetings between myself and other departments in the company." I explained, trembling slightly out of nervousness.

"In our records it says that your real name is Isaac Montana, and you've got several restraining orders set against your father, Dr. Lyndon Montana. As you know, all potential law enforcement employees are subject to a full background check." I nodded.

"So you know that my father charged me with credit card thievery?" I asked with uncertainty. Chief Irons nodded, his face grave.

"Yes, we do." Wesker replied, his tone dark. My mouth twitched nervously.

"T-they were false charges..." I said with hidden reproach.

"Yes, we know." Chief Irons said immediately after. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Captain Wesker smirked, obviously sensing my nervousness. He reached into my portfolio, which I had placed very neatly on the Chief's desk and pulled out all five of my letters of recommendation. He read through them all in complete silence, but halfway through the third one Irons asked me another question.

"What do you think will happen if you were to get this job?" Chief Irons asked, speaking to me with interest.

"I don't know. Something good, I hope." I said, shrugging. "I think I'd find what I need." I said absently. Captain Wesker chuckled and finished reading the rest of recommendation letters and setting them down. I could tell, even through his shades I could tell he was staring me down. Reading me. Finally he leaned back on his heels and placed his hands behind his back, smiling.

"Well, I think we've got our perfect candidate here, Brian..." He said with his knowing smirk. Chief Irons smiled and nodded.

"I agree, Albert." Irons turned to me and leaned in. "Now...we're pretty short on civilian staff, so we're willing to offer you a salary of fifty-five hundred dollars a month. You'll be working ten hours a day, six days a week, plus overtime when STARS are on assignment. Is that alright with you?" He said quietly. My heart began to race.

"Um...actually I was wondering about benefits. Don't get me wrong, I want this job. It's just that I'd like to know what other things I can do while working for the Police." I asked. Captain Wesker laughed.

"Well, there isn't much, but you'll have full medical coverage, as well as a three week paid vacation every year starting December first. You'll also have the option of taking basic firearm training courses but only under the supervision of a licensed police officer and inside our gun range." The Captain explained, using his black leather gloved hands to make his point. I nodded.

"So, what do you say?" The Chief asked. I nodded quickly, my heart still racing at the thought of this new job. OVER FIVE AND A HALF THOUSAND DOLLARS A MONTH!

"I'll do it. Gladly!" I exclaimed excitedly, which caused The Chief and Captain Wesker to chuckle.

"Great...when can you start?" Captain Wesker asked. I thought about it for a moment. Today was Thursday. I needed to figure out my new situation, and I needed all the time I could get.

"As early as Monday." I replied. Chief Irons stood up with a type of flourish, extending his big meaty, hairy hand to shake mine. I grasped his hand with my own, shaking it once very firmly and then shaking Captain Wesker's hand as well. When Wesker shook my hand I felt an odd sensation traveling up my spine, like an ice cold chill. It felt weird, almost as if somehow warning me not to trust him. I quickly pushed the thought and feeling to the back of my mind to decipher later and thanked both older men.

"Well, now that everything is settled I'll go inform Alpha and Bravo." Captain Wesker said, heading for the door slowly. "Welcome to the RPD, Isaac." He said with an almost friendly smile. I nodded with a polite smile.

"Thank you, sir."

"Well, I'd like you to come in tomorrow so we can make your ID badge and get all the paperwork done. How does five thirty PM sound?" Chief Irons asked. I nodded.

"Sounds great. Thank you." I said with a smile. I shook his hand one last time before turning around and leaving. Then I remembered one last thing. "Oh! I was meaning to ask, is there a specific dress code here?" I asked with interest.

"Formally Casual. Look nice and professionally comfortable." Irons answered simply. I nodded, thanking him and walking out of his office, trying to ignore the two stuffed tigers as I passed by them. Those things were really creepy, and I kept noticing the weird paintings on the walls of Irons' office. Suddenly I had an uneasy feeling in my gut, but like the others they were quickly pushed to the back of my mind. I had things to do. Ten hours a day, six days a week, for that high of pay! My head was swimming in the possibilities as I walked through the halls with a bounce in my step.

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I've killed myself over and over to make this chapter. It actually started out as one really long chapter chronicling Isaac's entrance into the working force of the precinct. I hope that this chapter shows that Isaac really is a guy who really has some problems to deal with, someone who's killing himself trying to be normal, to have something real in his life. 


	4. Remember

So after three or four years of radio silence I emerge from my dark, dark little hole of work, and school and real life to update this little puppy. At this point I am putting everything else except for this story on hiatus, because now I have no interest in doing anything but refining the world that Isaac is a part of, and redefining his contribution to the overall story of Resident Evil and the other events that he will be a part of.

I would very much like to extend a request to fellow, and far superior writers Noctorro and HHOD for permission to use their characters once again. It's been years, I know and I understand if you feel like you have written your original characters into something that can no longer involve events that I may write. If I can, I will do everything in my power to not interfere with the events of your established stories. I am playing catch-up to you both, so I can work with your OCs within the capacity that you had written them. Thank you, and I must say it is a pleasure to have read all your work thus far.

* * *

**(July 16th, 1998. Night.)**

The same night my apartment was filled with the laughter of mine and one of my best friends as we downed our ninth round of vodka shots in my living room as we were watching the old school black and white George Romero's Dawn of The Dead.

Beside me was one of my closest friends, the headstrong Elza Walker. She was one of my most favourite people in the world, so original and powerful. Ever since she was sixteen she was one of the first, and not to mention best, sport bike riders in Raccoon City. She was even teaching me how to ride, and although I had no bike of my own I knew enough to go for my riding license next spring. Usually she would be wearing her tight leather riding pants and some tight tee with her hair tied back and some Pumas, but today she was wearing nice lime green pajamas and her dirty blonde hair down.

"I can't believe they're willing to pay you that much! How much is your rent?" She asked, her words still clear even after nine rounds of triple distilled, double shot vodka. I laughed at a particular moment in the movie when a zombie got it's head blown off by one of the last remaining survivors. It looked so obscene and campy that I couldn't help but laugh.

"Uh...twenty-two hundred dollars a month excluding cable, air conditioning, electricity, and water. With all of that it comes up to about thirty three hundred. I'll be able to get those new sofas I've been eying." I said, buzzed from the alcohol. Elza laughed, pouring more vodka into her shot glass and raised it with a big grin.

"WOOHOO! TO MONEY!" She cheered loudly. I did the same, clinking our glasses together with a bit of a flourish.

"To money!" I agreed, bringing the glass to my lips and downing the clear liquid, feeling it burn down my throat. I could feel my stomach doing flips as the alcohol began to take a toll on my body, but Elza was still rearing to go, pouring herself another shot. She downed it and wiped her mouth.

"Mm, so I guess you'll be a huge, law-aboding citizen now that you're a civic servant..." She slurred slightly. I laughed, a loud burp interrupting me. She laughed, her eyes closed. I laughed even louder and staggered to my feet, telling her that I needed to change into my sleeping clothes. She nodded, pouring another drink. I stumbled into my room and wobbled precariously as I pulled off my jeans and shirt, toppling over onto my bed. I fumbled with my pant buttons when Elza stumbled into the room. "Isaa...where's your kitchen...?" I grunted and fumbled with my pajama top. I let out a wheezing cough as Elza collapsed on top of me, snoring loudly.

I quickly moved her off of me onto the bed, the girl snuggling into the covers while I wobbled around the apartment turning off the lights and the television. I then returned to my bedroom, Elza sleeping soundly on one side of the bed. I climbed in and turned off the lamp, drowning the room in darkness. I quickly passed out in the ambient umbrage, lulled to sleep by Elza's quiet snoring.

**(July 17th, 1998. Morning)**

I woke up with a killer headache and the worst taste in my mouth, Elza's arm draped over my chest as she drooled into the sheets. Her hair was a mess, scraggly and all over the place. My head throbbed as I got up, stumbling into my bathroom and climbing into my shower. I took off my pajamas and boxers, tossing them out onto the floor before turning the hot and cold faucets, sighing as my head was soothed by the massaging water. I mentally went through everything that I was supposed to get done today.

_Get rid of this horrendous hangover..._

_Quit Pianti's, and Feldman's..._

_Get my ID badge at the Precinct..._

"Hnn...my head..." Elza moaned, stumbling into the bathroom. There was the sound of something metal falling on the ground hard. At the sound my head seemed to scream bleeding pain, throbbing violently. I pressed my palms into both my temples to stave off the waves of agony washing through my brain. After a moment of staggering noises coming from Elza she finally settled on the toilet seat, holding her head. "We should NEVER do anything like that again, Isaac..." She groaned. After a few minutes of being steadily bombarded with soothing warm water, the headaches began to subside and I was left with just a disgusting taste in my mouth.

"We've always said that each time we've done it, and it never ends up that way." I said as I rubbed some conditioner into my scalp. Meanwhile I could hear the sound of Elza brushing her teeth over the gentle hiss of the shower head. "Please tell me you're using your own toothbrush..." I moaned. Elza began to giggle, her giggles growing into full blown maniacal laughter with her mouth full of foam and one of my toothbrushes. I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Damn it..."

"Buy a new one, you rich-ass Jezebel." She laughed.

"God, you suck..." I chuckled, twisting the knobs closed and grabbing the towel slung over the shower door. Wrapping it around my waist and tying the corners together I stepped out of the stall and briskly walked back to my bedroom to change. I needed to get ready to get my ID pass at the Precinct.

**(Afternoon.)**

By six PM I was waiting in the main hall of the precinct, Captain Wesker ordering me to stay and meet the people I will be serving. I was quickly getting impatient, fumbling with the collar of my shirt and pacing around in front of Rita. She was extremely friendly, and I could feel her eyes follow me as I walked back and forth. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and spoke.

"Are you alright?" She asked, leaning with her elbows on the counter. I turned my head to the blonde woman and nodded quickly.

"I...I'm just nervous. What if the STARS don't like me? What if they don't want someone so young to handle their paperwork?" I yammered. Rita let out a small giggle.

"Calm down. I'm sure they'll love you." She said. "Take a deep breath and stand still. They'll be down here any second." I froze on the spot when a group of armed officers bearing the STARS symbol came down the main stairs laughing and joking with each other led by Captain Wesker. Even with his shades on I could tell he was looking straight at me. The whole group of them seemed to tower over me, emanating strength and superiority. Captain Wesker cleared his throat loudly, the STARS falling silent and into rapt attention. I could feel my heart rampaging in my ribcage.

"Isaac, I want you to meet the team, just to get you better acquainted before you start working for us." Captain Wesker said, standing beside me and clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder. I nodded and bowed slightly, completely oblivious to proper law enforcement greeting. They all gave a casual wave of their hands and a small "hey." Captain Wesker pointed to a large, burly man with a thick patch of hair on his chin and a buzz cut. "That is Officer Burton, second in command of STARS Alpha team." He smiled and gave me a thumbs up. "To his left is Officer Chris Redfield." Redfield sort of struck a chord in me, instantly planting his name and image into my memory. "Beside him is Officer Valentine." The woman in the blue beret smiled and winked, her smile committing her image into my memory as well.

Each one of the STARS walked up to greet me with a handshake, Officer Frost pulling me into a headlock and giving me an atomic noogie. Officer Burton clapped his gigantic hand on my shoulder and welcomed me to the team, as did Officer Valentine. I was given a firm handshake by Officers Marini, Speyer, Dewey, Aiken, Vickers, and Sullivan. The chopper pilot, Brad Vickers, seemed really nice, and I could tell by his interactions with the other members that they seemed to hold something over him, ribbing him while he smiled weakly and took it. Wesker stepped forward, the STARS immediately standing at attention once again, walking back and forth while keeping his gaze directly upon me.

"Isaac, as of Sunday you will be offering your services to the police force. Not only that, but to a highly specialized task force made up of the best of the best. We expect nothing but your best work, everyday. Understand?" He stated. I nodded quickly. Captain Wesker spun on his heel and addressed the STARS. "STARS, you are dismissed!" They saluted their captain and walked off. I stood still, listening attentively out of anxiety. Wesker quickly dug out a small leather bound wallet from his pocket, pulled out a thick manila folder from the top of Rita's desk, and held it out for me. "These are your ID badges, as well as your training manual. By next Monday we expect you to be familiar with our computer systems. You're dismissed, and have a great night." He said, extending his hand to me. I took his big gloved hand and shook it firmly before turning around and heading for the front doors.

Outside, Elza was waiting in her midnight blue Honda Civic, her hair once again down but wearing a tight white tank top under her biker jacket and tight black denim low-riders. I quickly rolled up my sleeves and hopped into the passenger's seat, shucking off my leather shoes and swiftly pulling on my newly bought black Pumas.

"So how was it?" She asked as we drove off. I shrugged, ruffling up my hair and reaching into my pockets and putting on my leather wristbands. We passed a few intersections, getting closer and closer to The Red Pyramid, a club Elza and I went to frequently. Not many Uptowners went to that club, usually heading to The Machine or Twenty-Eight. The Red Pyramid was usually for downtowners to hear good music and dance with the best of them, since they had live shows every Friday night. Pretty big bands sometimes, too. Tonight was my personal favourite, a local band called The Trap Monkeys.

"Not that bad, they seemed pretty nice." I shrugged, tapping my fingers to the beat of the pulsing music in the car. She nodded, turning down Averly and bringing her car to a stop underneath a lamp post. The Red Pyramid was a block away and parking was brutal on Friday nights. We were lucky tonight. I popped my files and badges into her glove compartment and got out of the car.

"Fucking skater punks better not do shit to my baby..." Elza cursed under her breath. We had once found Elza's Honda covered in spray-paint once, with members of the Primadonnas still trying to tag it with their logos. They had gotten a royal ass-kicking that night. She was forced to use her father's auto shop to repaint the entire car, setting her back a few hundred dollars. She put on the club and turned on the alarm after she got out, lightly jogging to catch up with me. We walked past the huge line up, Jackson, the bouncer opening up and letting us through with our cover payment amidst groans and curses from the lines.

"Thanks, Jack." Elza winked, the slightest twinge of red dusting Jackson's cheekbones. On my way past Jackson punched my arm lightly.

"Thanks, man." He nodded and closed off the velvet rope. Elza and I entered, the throbbing music pulsing through the walls and our bodies as the DJ played some heavy dance music. My head was already moving to the beat and quickly enough my body wanted to get on the dance floor. The Trap Monkeys wouldn't be performing for another half hour, which meant the dance floor was covered with people in front of the stage. Elza leaned in and spoke.

"I'm going to get a drink. You want something?" She asked. I shook my head.

"Just some Cola. I don't want to be wasted when the band starts playing." I replied. I quickly went up to the second level, scoring a table for Elza and me to watch. I was nodding to the beat and wasn't really paying attention to my surroundings when a large hand clapped down on the table.

"Isaac! How the hell are ya?" I quickly looked up to see Matt Polson, captain of my high school soccer team looking down at me with drunken eyes. I smiled awkwardly and nodded. Matt quickly flopped down into the seat across from me and popped open a bottle of beer. "I didn't know you came here. You looking to get some cheap pussy or what?" He slurred. He laughed obnoxiously. I stared at him with disgust.

"No, I'm here to watch the band perform." I said, annoyed by the jock's behaviour. He laughed.

"I heard this band sucks. All the guys from school said they're just Red Hot Chilli Peppers wannabes with a girl singing." He laughed. I rolled my eyes. Everyone from school loved the Chilli Peppers, since they were the it thing. Everyone from high school was into the whole California rock thing, and it totally drowned out other good bands from ever making a mark in Raccoon. I personally was into Sneakerpimps, Oasis, and Radiohead as my all time favourite bands, Spin Spin Sugar, Wonderwall and Paranoid Android were the best songs I've ever heard.

"Well, we all have our own opinions. I like them. They're like a mix of Radiohead and the Sneakerpimps." I shrugged.

"Who?" Matt asked in confusion.

"You're in my chair..." Elza stated, holding a large glass of cola in her left hand and a martini in her right. Matt craned his neck to look up at her and smiled.

"Hey, foxy. Want to share the chair?" Matt waggled his thick brows suggestively. The look of pure disgust in Elza's eyes was evident.

"You're in my chair." She repeated. Matt chuckled and got up, swaying dangerously to the side as Elza set down the drinks on the table. Suddenly she yelped and straightened up, spinning and giving Matt a hard slap to the face.

"Don't you ever touch me like that you pig!" She screamed. Matt looked shocked by her reaction, but quickly settled into a rage from the slap. He raised his fist at her and I was in front of her in a flash, blocking the punch and pushing him back a few steps so I could follow and swing a foot at his chin, knocking a tooth from his mouth and sending him to the floor. People had heard the commotion and the bouncers quickly diffused the situation, dragging Matt out of the club. Jackson warned us to not start any trouble and allowed us to sit back down in our seats.

I was watching Elza and our surroundings like a hawk, until Elza spoke again. "Thanks, man." She smiled. I returned the gesture, leaning back on my chair and sipping my drink.

"No problem." I said, before straightening up in my seat when the band walked on stage.

"Are you going to go to that camping thing up in the mountains for Lindsay Hughes tonight?" Elza asked before the band started their first song.

"For who? Who the hell is Lindsay Hughes?" I asked in confusion. Elza laughed.

"Oh, you know, she was that girl who kept following you around in twelfth grade? The rich chick?" She prodded.

"The creepy one?" I asked. Elza nodded. My face contorted into a look of disgust.

"When did she become so popular?" I scoffed. Elza shrugged.

"Are you going though? I hear a bunch of the grads from our year are." I shrugged.

"I wasn't invited, and she's creepy as hell. I'd rather not." I laughed. Elza nodded.

"Why don't you go? Just because I'm not going doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourself..." I assured, nodding to the beat. She shook her head, drinking her martini. I could tell that a group of guys a few tables away were eying Elza up and down.

"Nah, I wasn't invited either. Besides, I'm a city girl through and through. I'd quite possibly die of agoraphobia or boredom..." She sighed. I snickered and quickly focused my attention on the swaying crowd and the spunky beautiful lead singer of the Trap Monkeys.


	5. Bad Blood

**(July 19th)**

The next day came and went, and as I fought with my collar to rest over my argyle sweater vest I entered the precinct with my badge, ID and a duffle bag filled with my training gear. Earlier, the captain said I was given the privilege to use their training gym in my off hours. Rita immediately called me over to her desk, standing up. On her desk was a small clock that read seven forty five AM.

"Morning Isaac! You excited?" She asked. I smiled and nodded, but my smile quickly flopped back into a frown as the offending collar refused to become unstuck from underneath the damn sweater. Rita quickly moved around her metal desk and quickly straightened the piece of fabric over top the sweater vest.

I straightened my khakis and made sure my sleeves were securely folded above my elbow. "I am." I said with confidence. Rita smiled to herself and pat me on the shoulder.

"Go get 'em, Tiger." She chuckled. I chuckled as I nodded and headed upstairs turning to the reception area for the STARS division of the precinct. The desk was nice, a grey-blue with a police standard black computer, and a few compartments underneath the mini awning guests and visitors could lean on, a whole bulletin board devoid of any sense of character except a small Dilbert Calendar with a post it note saying "welcome to the team." I suddenly had to wonder who would be thoughtful enough to place something funny on the reception desk. Captain Wesker was as funny as a mouldy, dead log and the other STARS members seemed so tightly knit within themselves and their group.

'It's a nice gesture.' I thought to myself. I shrugged and kept scanning the desk. Beside the computer was a small microphone, probably connected to Captain Wesker's office. Teetering dangerously on the edge of the desk were six, impossibly stuffed manila portfolios and a post-it note saying in pretty elegant cursive:

"File these, then see me. Capt. Wesker." I read to myself. I nodded and sat down, placing my personal decorations and booting up the computer. I quickly shifted the pile of folders to a safer spot on the desk and pulled the top file and began to sift through it. I quickly entered my name and password when prompted and accessed the case files. I flipped the first file open and found that it was an investigation request from Homicide. I began to read through the letter, chewing on my bottom lip and rocking back and forth on my rolling computer chair.

_Homicide Division of RPD_

_Subject: Request for participation of STARS Team._

_From the office of Detective Frederick Hersh, Head of Homicide Dept._

_Due to the lack of substantial and connective evidence found in the double homicide of Geoffrey Orvilleson, and Matthias Polson..._

My eyes widened at the name sitting on the page. Matt Polson? He's dead..? It couldn't be...I kept reading, my mind racing.

_...the head of the homicide division has decided that the STARS Team should be brought into the investigation. As such, I have compiled in the accompanying file the witness accounts, crime scene photos, and records of evidence found at the crime scene. Please consider entering the investigation as it is becoming a major problem for the community and the Police department._

I quickly pulled out the next part of the file and began typing down the information. I opened a clear autopsy information spreadsheet and wrote down the info.

_Name: Geoffrey Orvilleson._

_DOB: 12/15/80_

_Height: 5 feet 11 inches._

_Weight: 52 kg_

_COD: Severe lacerations to the carotid artery._

_Overall Injuries: Several sections of victim's body suffered great loss of somatic tissue, particularly in the midsection as well as the trachea with anti-mortem lacerations on the forearm, as well as sections of the organ system missing. _

_Comments: From a visual of each wound, it seems to be an animal attack of some sort, bite marks littered all over the body, most are post mortem. _

As I read the paper I could barely control my disgust and anxiety. I shivered at the thought, and could barely contain my gagging when I looked at the crime scene photos. In each picture, you couldn't distinguish where Geoff's blood turned into Matt's blood, various splatters marked with evidence markers, and the photos of Geoffrey's ripped torso and all the round dark chunks of bitten flesh in Geoffrey's legs and arms. There was a particular shot of Geoffrey's face and torn neck, bloody holes where his eyeballs should have been and the spine practically visible from the amount of flesh that was ripped out. It took almost all my courage to open up Matt's autopsy report.

_Name: Matthias Polson._

_DOB: 05/07/80_

_Height: 6 feet_

_Weight: 56 kg_

_COD: Severed jugular due to violent tearing at the trachea. _

_Overall Injuries: Large sections of flesh violently removed, torn open abdominal cavity as well as the severing and absence of several vital organs including the heart, liver, thyroid, pancreas and sections of the small and large intestine. Victim also lost both sets of limbs post-mortem, various bite marks adorning the bones retrieved by forensics._

_Comments: As with the other victim found nearby, at a cursory glance it seems to be some sort of animal attack due to the bite marks and torn jugular blood passage._

My eyes widened. Animal attacks? I quickly shifted my gaze between the photos of Geoffrey and Matt's dead corpses and stared at the bite marks. Those looked human. I shook my head and placed the papers I had already gone through in a neat, ordered pile and started recording witness information. My heart began to race and pound deafeningly in my ears when I saw Lindsay Hughes' name on the info sheet.

_"It was so fucking, like, crazy. First Matt was drinking and hanging with the rest of us when he says he hears something out in the bushes so he and Geoff went to go find it, and then suddenly someone started screaming. Andrew, Grace, AJ and I ran in the direction they had went and found them all dead and shit...we just ran back to the campsite and told everyone to go home... It had to happen on my birthday too, fuck..."_

I felt my stomach turn at the thought that if Elza had decided to go, she might have been the one that was mutilated. My shoulders were tense as I continued recording the file. The rest of the people who came forward said that they didn't see who or what had killed Geoff and Matt, but they all said they could smell the scent of dead bodies earlier during the party. I finished off the file and finished the next four case files over the next hour, until Captain Wesker's voice buzzed through on my intercom.

"Isaac, you can take a small fifteen minute coffee break now." He said. I pressed the return button and spoke into the microphone.

"I'll take it as soon as I finish this last file, if that's alright with you , sir." I replied. There was silence on the other end.

"Alright. Did you receive that memo from Homicide?" He asked. I typed in a few more words with my right hand while keeping the return button depressed.

"Yes, I did, sir." I replied.

"What was it about?" He asked calmly.

"It was a request for STARS to join their investigation. Something about a double homicide up in the mountains." I responded as I finished the last file.

"Hmm...bring it to me after your break, alright?" He concluded.

"Yes, sir." I replied, getting up and setting the computer on standby. I picked up the request file and quickly walked downstairs to the small break room. Inside were a few members of STARS sitting around a small round table laughing and joking. I quickly fished some change out of my pocket and made a beeline for the coffee vending machine. I popped the coins into the machine, hearing the clinking as they fell into the machinery inside and made my selection. There was a small buzz and a cup fell into the dispenser and was soon filled with dark, aromatic brown liquid. Once filled, I grabbed the cup and sidestepped to the candy vending machine.

"Isaac! Hey! Come here and sit with us!" Called a deep, laughing voice. I turned and saw Officer Valentine, Burton, Redfield, Vickers, and Frost waving at me. I smiled sheepishly and nodded, paying for a small bag of Sun Chips and watching it fall. I pushed open the flap at the bottom and grabbed the bag, sipping my coffee and walking to the table where the officers were waiting. I sat down in the only empty chair, popping open my chips and started eating. Officer Valentine quickly extended her delicate hand.

"We didn't get a real chance to get to know you. My name is Jill Valentine. You can call me Jill." She said politely. I smiled and shook her hand.

"Isaac Brown. I really appreciate the little welcome gift you guys left on my desk." I replied. Suddenly a strong arm wrapped around my shoulders. Frost slapped me on the back and laughed.

"So did you enjoy that stack of files? Our last receptionist took hours to do that much. So how many are left?" Frost asked, a small hint of light-hearted ridicule laced into his voice. I shrugged and popped a chip into my mouth.

"I'm finished. I finished all of them about ten minutes ago." I answered, nibbling at the chip in my hand. I took my gaze off of the small, thin disk of food to see that Officer Vickers, Redfield and Frost were staring incredulously at me.

"Two hours! It only takes you two hours to finish six huge files! Our last worker took at least four to finish stuff like that!" Officer Redfield exclaimed. I chuckled and shrugged.

"It's nothing different than what I had been doing at my other job. I worked at Feldman's Life Insurance as the head Custodian of Records." I explained. Frost half barked, half laughed as he slapped me on the back.

"Your parents must be really proud of ya, being' such a hard worker..." He said.

"I guess so." I shrugged and drank the rest of my coffee, getting up abruptly and walking out of the break room. I know he didn't mean anything by it, but I didn't want to hear or explain anything about my parents.

"Isaac?" Officer Frost called as I walked to the door, tossing the cup and bag in the trash bin and heading back upstairs with the file under my arm. I walked into the STARS bull pen and quickly approached Captain Wesker's office, knocking on the nicely lacquered door. The Captain's voice sailed through the door after a few moments, cool and almost sounding annoyed.

"Yes, come in..." I placed my hand on the doorknob and twisted it fully, pushing it in and greeting him.

"Hello, Captain. I brought the file you wanted..." I said, placing the file on his mahogany desk. There was nothing really extravagant, just a gold framed photo of the Captain and a small boy. I took a few split seconds to stare at the photo. The Captain looked truly happy, his ice blue eyes shining with mirth and his lips curled into a wide smile as he held up the boy who was, after much scrutiny, the spitting image of the Captain.

"My son, Andrew. The picture was taken when he was nine, but he was kidnapped when he was fifteen. He'd be about your age now, if he's alive." Wesker mentioned, not taking his eyes off the file.

"Oh, I was just looking...I know it's not my business." I stammered. Wesker's lips twitched into what could have been a smile when he laid the file on his desk, spreading out the photos.

"And you've read the file already?" He asked. I nodded. "I see...what do you make of the wounds? In your opinion?" He asked, leaning back on his chair. I forced myself to look at the photos and nearly gagged again. I scrutinized the photos and soon noticed that the edges of the neck wounds were rounded and took the shape of human teeth.

"Well, I'm not an expert on stuff like this, but the edges of the wounds look like teeth marks. Human teeth marks." I mumbled. Wesker made an indescribably amused sound, a cross between a mumble and a snort and looked at me.

"OK, thank you. I'll alert you of my decision in a few hours. Have you gotten the chance to start those other files?" The Captain asked. I nodded.

"Finished them, actually." I answered. Captain Wesker smiled, an enigmatic smile on his face. As always, his shades obstructed his eyes from view. I had never taken Captain Wesker to be a family man, seeing as how he was always walking around like he had a knife stuck up his spine. I wasn't scared of the man, per say, it's just that he had that air. The _get out of my way or die_ kind of air. Especially since he had lost his son four years ago, but where was his wife?

"Good. You're dismissed." He concluded. I nodded, briskly walking out into the bullpen and going from desk to desk asking for any new files or anything the STARS needed. Burton, Redfield and Frost seemed to give me a weird, scrutinizing look as I stood at the their desks. Redfield collected a few more files from his horribly cluttered desk and held them out to me. I reached out to grab them but he quickly moved them out of the way, still giving me a stern look.

"I don't appreciate you being such an asshole in the break room. If there was a problem with what we were saying, then you should've told us." He said darkly. Officer Valentine gave Chris a hard glare that could have snapped his neck across from him but was ignored.

"Sorry. It was just a pretty tender subject. I'm sorry if it offended you guys." I apologized. Chris' hard glare remained.

"It did..." He said simply, dropping the files on the edge of his desk and returning to his work. I sighed and picked them up, collecting the rest and walking back to my desk. I placed the large pile on my desk and began to work, documenting them in the computerized database. I hadn't meant to offend, I just...

"Why am I making excuses for myself?" I whispered softly, shaking my head.

"Mind if I join you?" A female's voice asked. I looked up and saw Officer Valentine smiling softly down at me. I weakly smiled back and nodded. She pulled off her beret, revealing a small tight bun underneath tied with a small black rubber band. She pulled it out and let her chin length hair fall. She looked pretty uncharacteristic with her hair down in her uniform, but I said nothing as she pulled another office chair and sat down. She watched in silence as I continued to work.

"If you're looking for an excuse for my actions, there is none. I didn't want you to hear my sob story and feel sorry for me." I replied with a soft tone.

"If you don't want me to feel sorry for you, I won't, but I still want to hear your story." She replied, resting her chin on her fingerless gloved hand. I continued to type at a blinding speed as I sighed and started my story.

"I don't like me or anyone else mentioning my parents." I started.

"Why?" Jill asked.

"I feel ashamed by them. My father was an abusive, alcoholic adulterer and my mother was so subdued and placid. My household was an extravagant hellhole. My Dad beat me at least four times a week after he'd get home from the hospital run by Umbrella after I found out he was sleeping with my best friend's older sister, who was only barely eighteen at the time." I began. Jill gulped, but kept quiet. I finished the seventh file and quickly started the next.

"When I was sixteen I ran away from home and went to Winnipeg using what little money I had. I got on a bus and vowed to never come back again. I made a friend and lived with him for four months until cops came knocking, arresting me for credit card thievery. I was brought back here, faced the charges and took the beatings for another year and a half until I got my Dad arrested for the night and forced my mom to sign the emancipation papers and moved out the things I could in a night and rented my apartment." I continued.

"For a few more months, I placed a restraining order on my Dad and lived the rest of my high school life as a Downtown resident. So now I'm working here." I concluded. I finished the ninth file and started the last one, glancing at the female officer beside me.

"You must have had a hard time. You're pretty strong for such a young guy." She smiled. I smiled and submitted the last file into the database.

"I hate telling people what happened to me. It sounds like such a Lifetime kind of story." I laughed as I got up, opening up my filing cabinets and pulling the files out in a whole pile.

"What are you doing?" Jill asked, still sitting in her chair. I quickly perused the cabinet, looking at the dates and finding that they were in horrible disarray.

"Cleaning and organizing this mess your last worker made." Whoever their last worker was, they _sucked_ at their job. The cabinets were so disorganized.

"Look at this! June 1996 and 1993 files with each other?" I exclaimed angrily as I pulled a small group of files out and set them down on my desk. I began to rearrange the files and place them back into the cabinets from bottom to top, least recent to most recent.

"You take your job really seriously, don't you?" Jill asked softly. I didn't meet her gaze, but nodded.

I quickly moved some files around before closing the drawer and opening the bottom drawer. I went through the file subjects and dates and found that the earliest files were from 1992. I placed the '92 files at the back in chronological order, moving onto the '93 files.

" 'Working hard for a nickel.' " I replied. She chuckled and said she had to get back to her desk. "Okay. See you later..."

"Bye." She said. I glanced at her back as she froze and turned, walking back to my desk and grabbing her blue beret. "I'll talk to Chris about his manners...don't let it bog you down." She added. I quickly turned my head to her and shook my head profusely.

"No. It's all right. I shouldn't have been so rude. I'll apologize to him in a bit." I said, quietly adamant.

"You sure?" She asked, almost like a mother asking her child if they didn't want any dinner. I nodded.

"I'll do it myself. I'm in the wrong here." I restated. She smiled softly before nodding and walking back into the STARS office, tying her hair back into the bun and tucking it under her hat. I continued to look through and arrange the files. To end it off, I placed coloured dividers between sets of files with different years, until it was about one o' clock in the afternoon and all the files were completely organized and properly labelled. I exhaled in accomplishment when a call came through on my intercom.

"Isaac, regarding the homicide request, I'll decline this one." The captain's voice buzzed through. "Please arrange a short meeting between Hersh and myself." He ordered. I pressed the return button and spoke.

"Yes, sir. I'll do that right now..." I replied. I released the button and quickly picked up my phone. There were extensions already set up for the different departments, all I had to do was press a button. I sat down on my chair as the phone rang, when a woman's voice patched through.

"Homicide department of the RPD, how may I help you?" She droned. I put on my professional voice.

"Good afternoon, this is the RPD division of STARS, I'm calling to arrange a short fifteen minute conference with Detective Frederick Hersh, in regards to their request for STARS to join the investigation of the Arklay mountain double homicide. Could you please put me through?" I asked firmly, but politely.

"Please hold." I gave a short hum of affirmation before there was silence on the other line. I sighed in resignation as I waited. Wouldn't the Captain's refusal to join in the investigation cause a _coup de t'at_ with Matt and Geoff's parents? They were both of prominent families in Raccoon, and they all had a whole lot of connections. Under their influence STARS would be disbanded before I could say _health plan._

"_Coup de t'at_, for sure..." I mumbled to myself. Suddenly the line came alive. "Hello. Detective Hersh?"

The end of my shift came slowly, just as the summer sky seemed to amble leisurely into sunset. Thankfully today wasn't too warm, and so I quickly changed into my sweats, gym shirt, and runners. The PD's training hall wasn't too extravagant, just a few all-around gyms, a few training dummies and a large square mat for hand to hand combat training. While being a small city, Raccoon was quite lucky to have a multi-billion dollar company providing the more expensive amenities. Umbrella ran the waste disposal plant, the hospital, and various other things, which made government funding more available to law enforcement. I placed my duffel bag in an open locker and closed it, locking it and placing the key into my pocket.

I placed myself onto one of the free gym mats and started stretching. I placed my feet pointing forward and slowly bent forward, folding myself fully in half until I began to feel my muscles tense and ache just slightly. I held myself in that position for half a minute before releasing and swinging my left leg around until my toes were pointing to the wall behind me. I had been in Tae-Kwon-Do and Jiu-Jitsu for more than half my life, which helped with my little childhood fat. It also made me very flexible and strong. In a full forward split I bent forward until my forehead was four inches from the ground and held myself there for half a minute.

While still only a green belt in both arts, I had no desire to expand my knowledge of each beyond what I had already learned. Defending myself was the most important part of my life. I released as my muscles started to ache and tense and reversed the position, my right leg behind me and my torso bent over my left leg. After another thirty seconds I got up and walked to a training dummy. I punched the dummy, which was modeled in the form of a muscular, bald man and began to start my footwork. I balanced on my right foot and gave two quick kicks to the dummy's stomach and swung my leg downward, slamming my heel into the rubbery shoulder of the dummy as it bounced tightly to the left and right on it's post.

"You're good. Pretty fast for a kid your age." A deep voice commented from behind me. I turned and saw Officer Redfield. "You compete or something?" He asked with his tone still holding that hostility from before. I shook my head.

"I've gotten into fights before." I replied, making sure to keep my tone in what I assumed Redfield considered "respectful." I turned back to the dummy and punched the dummy's throat, quickly pivoting and lashing out in a quick fan with my left foot. Redfield gave a small sound of confusion when he held the dummy steady with his hands.

"Do you spar or just train by yourself-" He asked, his voice still dark but holding far less hostility than before. Was he playing with me? Trying to get me to make excuses for myself for what I did hours ago? Sure, when I went for lunch I sat alone, drank my coffee and ate my turkey BLT but it didn't really matter to me, it just felt like high school all over again. "-cause you don't seem to show any sort of warmth to people sometimes." He finished.

"You want me to apologize for earlier?" I said between hard kicks.

"Well, it was rather rude of you...I think something along the lines of 'I'm sorry' is warranted." He mused to himself. I sighed and gave a hard kick to the dummy's chest.

"I'm sorry. It was immature of me to act that way. I should have just told you that I..." I paused when I came to the end of my apology. Was it really necessary for me to go through my whole sob story once again? "...that I came from a bad family environment. I shouldn't have taken it out on you, Mr. Frost, Burton or Ms. Valentine." I finished.

"No problem. We've all got shit to deal with." He replied. He held out his gloved hand once again, flashing a devilish smile that showcased his perfectly straight, white teeth. I examined the hand before grasping it with my own and shaking it slowly. "So, how about a sparring session?" He asked suddenly. I looked at the man with incredulous eyes.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Why not?" He retorted.

"You're from the Air Force. I'm a desk jockey. Do the math." I joked. He shrugged.

"I'll go easy, if you want...come on, I want to see what you can do." He pushed. I sighed in exasperation. I was going to get my ass handed to me on my first day? Not good.

"Fine...but we stop when I say stop, 'k?" I agreed. He nodded. We moved to the large mat and I quickly removed my runners and socks. We both got onto the mat and got ready. Redfield cracked his knuckles and slouched a little, clenching and unclenching his fists in a boxing stance. I took the left stance of Tae-Kwon-Do and stood my ground on the cool mat.

"Ready?" Redfield asked. I steadied my breathing and nodded. He took deliberate steps toward me, gauging my reaction. Suddenly a fist shot forward and I narrowly avoided my nose being broken when I tilted to the side and threw my left foot in the direction of his chest. His hand swiftly blocked my kick as suddenly he and I were too close for my liking. Suddenly a leg caught my ankles and I was sent sprawling to the floor on my back. I jumped back onto my feet in a flash and held myself at the ready.

Redfield was suddenly right in front of me, a knee jabbing into my stomach. I coughed and stumbled back a few steps. I shook the pain out of my mind and quickly caught a fist with both hands and turned, pulling Redfield onto and over my back and throwing him to the ground with a resounding thud. He let out a gasping yelp before getting up and swinging a fist at my chest.

I'm from the streets, and was abused severely at home by my father. My threshold for pain had reached a place even the skater gangs in the area I lived in couldn't get to. When Officer Redfield's fist struck my chest I felt that familiar shock and felt the sting of pain for a few split seconds before it dulled and I ducked under the next punch while tripping him with my right leg.

Since Redfield was a seasoned professional and a lot stronger than I was, he quickly recovered, jumped back to his feet and quickly overtook me with a well placed grapple and slammed me into the floor. I felt the wind escape my lungs and dazed. Soon it was over and I flipped back onto my feet. Suddenly I realized that a bunch of officers were watching our sparring session with interest. I blocked a punch and kick from Redfield and slammed the ball of my right foot into his chest. He coughed but grasped my ankle with one hand. He swung his leg out to trip my remaining leg but I quickly jumped and slammed my other foot into Chris's belly. He was knocked backward and released my leg as I flopped back onto the mat.

I quickly scrambled to my feet and resumed my stance, sweat beading off my skin and feeling the burning ache in my chest, back and calves as Chris breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling slowly. I ran at Chris, throwing one punch that was dodged and another when suddenly I felt a palm lift me by the stomach and another hand grasping my shirt throw me high into the air before my shoulders hit the mat hard. Everything was a spinning blur for moments afterward, a dark haired mass staring down at me until the image began to sharpen and Chris' face came into view. I had lost. My muscles ached and I had no will to get back up onto my feet.

"Damn..." I breathed. "I give...I've had enough..." I panted. I groaned as my joints and muscles shot burning pain when I made to get up. Among hoots and hollers coming from around the ring, Chris flopped down onto the mat beside me and folded his arms overtop his bent knees.

"By the way, I heard the whole story from Jill. I hope that from now on you'll trust us enough to tell us when you're offended or not. We're your friends..." Chris said, cracking his knuckles. I let out a breath and nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind..." I wheezed.


End file.
